


American Gods

by PeacefulOblivion



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And Tony's usual alcoholism and self deprecating thoughts, But it's not gonna be that bad, Get ready for flashbacks, Gonna have some violence later on, I promise I write more coherently than I write these tags, I'm Sorry, M/M, and panic attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:29:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulOblivion/pseuds/PeacefulOblivion
Summary: Steve Rogers is absolutely certain that he is not gay.But that stripper is really cute.Even if he is of the same gender.There's no harm in admiring someone who really knows what they're doing, right?





	American Gods

It was still a mystery to Steve about how he had allowed himself to get involved in a bet with Sam of all people. He was too confident, too cocky in these scenarios, and this is often what got him into situations like these. Steve knew this at the very least. Though, the fact that they were both drunk as hell when they had made the bet probably had something to do with it as well.

  
In the simplest possible terms, the bet had been centered around which one of them could hold their alcohol better. As in, how many shots they could take before they rushed off to throw up or blackout. So no, they hadn’t been thinking clearly at all when they had made this bet, as was quite obvious to them. Steve had downed eight shots of hard liquor before he was turning green. In the moment, he had been absolutely certain that Sam couldn’t possibly beat that, especially due to all of the time he had spent in the military. He had been toughened up during that time, he had learned how to fight against the effects of poison and other substances that could harm him. So Steve had rushed off to the bathroom with a triumphant look on his face, knowing that there was no way on God’s green Earth that his best friend could possibly out do him.

  
When he returned, Sam drank nine shots. Steve still wasn’t sure how he had managed to pull this off, and he was somewhat certain that his friend had cheated in one way or another, but he wasn’t looking to start a fight, and besides, what was done was done at this point.

  
The deal had been simple enough. If Steve won, he would take them to a run of the mill strip club. (Steve had been incredibly drunk, Mr. Righteousness would never actually suggest something like that if he was sober). And if Sam won, he would take them both to a male strip club. (Sam had been incredibly drunk, he would have never come out to Steve like that if he was sober). At this point, Steve wasn’t even certain if Sam was gay in the first place, or if he had just been messing with him and trying to push him out of his comfort zone. Either way, Steve felt the most uncomfortable he had been in what seemed like years as he walked up to the place, not really wanting to do this at all. Still, he didn’t see a way out of it. If he asked, he knew that Sam would let him get out of the dumbass bet, but he also knew that this would make his best friend view him as though he were a coward, and kind of pathetic and therefore, he really had no intention of doing this.

  
Sam was already there, already in line as he was waiting to be let in by the bouncer. Steve joined him near the back of the line. He joined his friend, standing beside him as he attempted to strike up a conversation, hoping that it would provide a much needed distraction from just how awkward he felt at that moment.

  
“You made it.” Sam was the first to talk, and though he spoke in a calm, normal tone, Steve knew that he still must’ve been quite surprised that he had actually mustered up the will to even come in the first place.

  
“Yeah,” Steve responded, clearing his throat. It was already far too obvious to him about how much they stood out from the rest of the crowd. The two of them were surrounded by women, most of them looking like they were college age. Occasionally, there was a middle aged woman as well, most of whom were probably sexually starved housewives who snuck out to places like these when their husbands were nowhere to be found.

  
“Is it normally like this?” Steve questioned, quietly enough where no one could hear him besides his friend, as he nodded down the back of the line. Not that he would expect Sam to know the answer, it wasn't like he was a regular to this place.

  
Without thinking, Sam shrugged, which just made Steve even more confused about just how often he came here. He wouldn't have pegged him as the type, not at all, and it seemed like Sam had just confirmed any suspicions that he might have held. “Except for Thursday nights, yeah.” He still seemed completely oblivious of what he had basically just confessed, and Steve wasn't about to question him any further, mostly just because he wasn't entirely certain if he wanted to know everything that Sam got up to in his free time.

  
Steve pursed his lips, as though he were about to say something, before he shut his mouth rather quickly. Like hell he was about to ask that happened on Thursdays. Instead, he buried his hands deep down in his pockets and nodded half heartedly. Sam seemed to only now be realizing his mistake and he cleared his throat, sounding almost nervous and definitely on edge all of the sudden.

  
“I checked out the website,” he muttered, as though his words needed an explanation. This only further made Steve certain that this was not his first time there.

  
“Okay.” His attention turned to the front of the line as they moved once more. The bouncer didn't seem like he was being particularly picky about who he was letting in (Steve hadn't seen him turn anyone away yet) but the line was moving somewhat slow, since he was letting people go in in a staggered fashion.

  
The line moved once more after a few moments of comfortable and awkward silence between the two men, though Steve was relatively sure that this was a discomfort that Sam himself was making. So what if he was gay? It wasn’t like he cared, not really. It would just come as a surprise. Though Sam seemed hellbent on not giving him any more information or clarification than he absolutely needed, so at the moment, Steve would just have to deal with not knowing for sure.

  
“This was a stupid bet anyway,” Sam muttered with a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he stared at his feet.

  
“You’re telling’ me,” Steve responded, offering his own small chuckle in return. He honestly wasn’t sure what he had been thinking (granted, he probably hadn’t been thinking) when he had made that deal. Steve’s eyes turned to the front of the line and he realized with a sinking sensation in his stomach that they were a little too close to the front of the line for comfort. Exactly seven people away from the doors in fact. Soon, they would be inside, and Steve would have to busy himself with getting tipsy enough where he no longer felt a crushing sense of anxiety about where he was. Then, maybe, he could actually tolerate where he would be spending the next hour of his life. (After all, the deal had been for just an hour. He could leave as soon as those sixty minutes were up. Nothing was stopping him.)

  
The line moved forward once more, though the steps that Steve took sent a lurching feeling throughout him, like he was on a bumpy roller coaster. Two more people walked inside, and Steve didn’t miss the fact that they looked like they looked as though they could be mother and daughter.

  
_Great family bonding time._

  
Sam broke the silence once more. “Dude, if you don’t want to do this we don’t have to go in.” The words held a certain, newfound urgency to them, as if he had just grown kind of desperate, though Steve didn’t know why he suddenly seemed so on edge. Of course he didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to deal with half drunk college girls asking him if he was gay or even worse, someone who actually worked there. At that moment, he wasn’t sure what he would’ve disliked more. But Steve wasn’t at all the type to back out of anything just because he “didn’t want to”. This was a prime example of that. He had lost the bet, and he would deal with what they had agreed upon.

  
“It’s fine,” Steve murmured, shrugging a bit as he turned his attention back to the friend, rather than the rapidly diminishing line. “I lost,” he added, as though further encouragement for Sam to be convinced that it was indeed okay and that he wasn’t phased in the least. (This, of course was a lie). “So it’s fair.” It only now occurred to Steve that maybe he was sounding a bit too dead set on doing this, and the hint of an embarrassed frown formed on his face. He was careful to cover it up.

  
Sam’s face lit up with a small, teasing grin at the regret that must have been plastered on Steve’s face for the whole world to see. At this, the frown only returned to his face, and Steve’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Of course, he wasn’t actually mad at his friend, after everything they had been through together, though he wouldn’t deny the fact that he could get really frustrating, especially when he inevitably felt the urge to tease him. “Y’ sure you aren’t more than willing to do this?” he teased.

  
This earned him a rough elbow nudge from Steve, who was on the verge of rolling his eyes, something he only did when he met the most annoying people on the planet. And Sam was quickly turning into one of these people.

  
“That was rude.”

  
Before Steve could mutter back a comeback, the line moved once more, and he realized that the five people in front of them had all been one group, and therefore, all of them had been let in together. Which resulted in him and his friend being at the front of the line far too quickly for Steve’s taste. And soon, much too soon, they were facing the bouncer. Steve desperately tried to find somewhere else to look, rather than directly at him. After all, he had learned one thing from his time in the military, and this was to avoid looking directly at someone who seemed physically threatening. This was a perfect example of such training actually coming in handy. Unfortunately, it also made him feel even more out of place.

  
The guy seemed nice enough, he supposed. He was just really, really built. Then again, so was Steve. But the bouncer was standing with his arms on his chest, and he was standing up completely straight, whereas Steve was slouching. His own hands were still buried deep inside of his jeans pockets. It still looked like he was way taller than Steve, and Steve didn’t like it at all. The man’s sandy blonde hair was tied back into a sloppy bun, and he had some light stubble, the kind that Steve had never seemed capable of growing properly, much to his occasional dismay.

  
“I see you brought a friend, Sam.” The bouncer spoke, perhaps a bit too eagerly. His voice was laced with an accent that Steve couldn’t pinpoint, despite his attempts. This was saying something, especially since he had needed to learn how to detect various accents for his work. It sounded like a weird crossover between Received Pronunciation with a weird hint of something Nordic. The time that he spent trying to decipher his mystery accent was almost enough of a distraction for him to not even register the annoyed expression on Sam’s face.

  
_Almost._

  
He knew Sam, and at this point, Steve was certain that this was definitely not his first time there. The bouncer had just confirmed it. Sam was clearly not thrilled about him feeling the need to mention this. Meanwhile, the bouncer was entirely unaware that Sam seemed even remotely bothered about him saying this. Instead, a large smile was plastered on his face, and an annoyingly unaware look was in his eyes.

  
“Yeah,” Steve said, actually choosing to respond instead of his friend because Sam had gone mute. He was about to offer his name but he paused at the last possible moment. Why did it matter if this guy knew what his name was? It wasn’t like they were ever going to see each other again after this entire ordeal was over. So it shouldn’t have mattered. Instead, Steve cleared his throat, trying to make it look like him opening his mouth and then not saying anything was perfectly normal. The bouncer patted Sam on his shoulder, looking down at him with eyes that flashed with an innocent amusement. He couldn’t seem any more out of place.

  
After a few moments of silence that was beginning to get more and more familiar to Steve, the bouncer looked down at his chest, and Steve realized that he was wearing a watch. That’s how he must’ve been staggering how often he let people in. After a few seconds, he glanced back up the two men, moving to lift up the rope that separated them from the entrance. Sam walked through the door without looking back, and Steve followed after him. When he placed his palm on the handle, he pulled the door open, though not before he heard the peculiar accent speaking to him for a moment.

  
“No need to be worried.”

  
He brushed the words off. After everything he had dealt with in his life, this was the least of his worries. This was nothing.

  
As soon as he walked in, Steve was assaulted by flashing lights that could cause seizures in most cases, and there was deafening music playing. It was relatively dim, and it took him a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, just in time to make sure that he wasn’t going to trip and fall down a small set of stairs. He had to fight against the urge to get out of there as quickly as possible, not even because of what it was, but because of the noise. It was so loud, too loud. And he was literally walking right into it. He felt his throat grow dry as he glanced around at the people around him. He could barely see them, they were still cloaked in the blackness, and without realizing it, Steve’s hands tightened into fists, tight enough to make his knuckles white. A lump formed in his throat as he tried desperately to tune out the music and-

  
“You okay?”

  
He felt a hand on his shoulder, lightly resting there. Had he been swaying? Had be been shaking? Steve wouldn’t have been aware if he had been doing either.

  
He took a shaky breath in. “Fine.” He let a small grin appear on his face. He was fine. He would be fine. Steve just wished his friend would stop noticing these things. It wasn’t as though he was just a kid from Brooklyn anymore. He didn’t need anyone to take care of him like that. At least, that’s what he would keep telling himself until this finally went away. Sam didn’t say anything more. By now, he probably knew that it was better to not continue a conversation when his friend got like this.

  
Meanwhile, Steve made it his own personal mission to seek out where the bar was. He weaved his way through the crowds of girls, trying his best to ignore how many of them were looking at him through the corners of their eyes. It was challenging enough to navigate himself around the darkened establishment, much less try to avoid bumping into people who were giving him glances that made him feel as though he were a hunting trophy on display. This was a feeling that he didn’t find comforting at all, and he had to fight against the urge to shrink away from them.

  
Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to hunt down the bar, which was a small miracle, considering just how large this entire place seemed. It was in a corner of the business, along a glass wall that was directly across from a stage, about 100 feet or so. It was still very loud, but not as bad as it could’ve been, and hopefully far enough away from the speakers where his problems wouldn’t start all over again. Steve was beginning to believe that entire place had been converted from a small warehouse. It seemed large enough for that and he could make out a concrete floor in some areas. When he sat down at a stool at the bar counter, he noticed some old, worn brick on the wall to the side of him, giving it a slightly unfinished and gritty look. They had probably run out of money before they were done redoing the place. Or maybe the owner was just trying to pitch to the younger, hipster crowd of women. After all, it was Brooklyn, the second option didn’t seem too out of place to him.

  
Sam sat down next to him, glancing up at the bartender’s back with a look that suggested that the two of them knew each other. It seemed that he wasn’t bothering to hide his familiarity with this place anymore, and this was something Steve was somewhat thankful for. After all, he already had gathered that he was rather well known around there. It was just a waste of time if he continued trying to cover it up.

  
The bartender turned around only a few moments later, a towel draped over his shoulder. He offered a small grin at Sam, taking a step forward as he placed one of his hands on the black marble countertop, the other taking his towel off of his shoulder and resting it at his waist. Steve’s eyes drifted to his forearm, where some black ink swirled from his rolled up denim shirt sleeve. It appeared to be the chemical composition of some molecule, though he wasn’t sure what. He pried his eyes away from the man’s forearm before he could get too involved in trying to determine exactly what it was.

  
“Who’s your friend?” the bartender questioned, looking at Sam with a lopsided half-smile on his face. His tone sounded slightly suggestive, and Steve wasn’t certain why, until it hit him. He cleared his throat as he felt his entire face heat up, probably a sure sign that his face had suddenly become about three different shades of red. Since Steve was currently occupied with trying to not run away from that situation, Sam answered the question, in a tone that would’ve instantly shut down even the most curious and nosy individual.

  
“That’s Steve.”

  
Steve managed to force himself to nod at the bartender, praying to God that his blush wasn’t that obvious. The bartender didn’t say anything that would suggest it was, didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Instead, he offered out his right hand to Steve, lightly shaking Steve’s own.

  
“Bruce.” His eyes flashed with what could be characterized as sympathy for just a moment, though not nearly long enough for Steve to be absolutely certain. And then, Bruce had moved away from him, and he was leaning on the counter with both of his hands. The towel had moved to his back jeans pocket. “What can I get you both?”

  
Sam and Steve answered in almost complete unison, something that caused the blush on Steve’s face to intensity even more.

  
“Whiskey on the rocks.”

  
Sam shot his friend a confused look. Steve almost never ordered something that strong, though he assumed that desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was an example of one such time. Bruce nodded again and turned away from the counter, beginning to complete their requests as the two friends pulled a fair sum of money out of each of their wallets. It was only when Steve tried to pull the ten dollar bill out of it did he realize that his hands had grown far too tense, and his knuckles were pale white. He took a deep breath and mentally willed himself to loosen his grip, setting the money underneath his coaster. He could practically feel Sam looking at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he was okay yet again.

  
Steve was about to say something when the music blared and the lights flashed even more than usual. His head snapped up on instinct, just in time to see a blonde haired stripper tearing off his pants, leaving only his boxers on. This action, all by itself, made Steve want to wash his eyes out. It seemed so obscene, so wrong, and he couldn’t help but feel as though he was breaking some moral code by watching it, even if he hadn’t meant to do so. He shifted, resting his feet on the bar of the stool, purposely turning himself where he wasn’t directly facing the stage anymore.

  
Bruce set down the two drinks next to each of the men, and Steve struggled to say a simple ‘thanks’. His throat had gone dry once more, and he quickly took a drink from the glass in order to stop it from feeling so painful. This ended up being very counterproductive, since instead, he winced at the feeling of the drink going down his throat. It burned even more than usual that evening, which was somewhat shocking, especially since Steve had been growing more and more resilient to the effects of alcohol. Without thinking, Steve downed the rest of the whiskey without even taking a break to breath, and when he set the glass down on the counter with a loud clunk, he glanced at Sam with a large and dumb smile on his face. Sam looked concerned as he took his first sip of the beverage.

  
The music cut and the club was replaced with the sound of screaming and cheering women. The sound was bad enough that it made Steve wish that the music was blaring obnoxiously loud once more. He willed himself to look back at the stage and he saw the lights cut out for a bit as the strippers left in between the songs. He wasn’t as repulsed as he had been only a few moments before, and he was certain that this was because of the liquor. It could do wonders for him, which was exactly why he had looked for the bar right away. At least enough drinking would make Steve no longer feel like he had to throw up because of what he was witnessing. Instead, he would throw up eventually because he was getting dangerously close to alcohol poisoning.

  
The unorganized noise was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a deep male voice cutting through the air, coming from what must have been hidden speakers, because it seemed as though it was everywhere. It was bouncing around every square inch of that place and it was just as deafening as the music or cries from minutes before. It was a voice that made Steve want to throw his now empty glass at whoever the hell felt the need to amplify their voice that much.

  
“I hope you’re enjoying yourself, ladies!” This was followed by more cheers and the occasional, ear splitting scream. Steve rolled his eyes at this. Who the hell was the guy who was talking? Did the women there know him? Was he the owner?

  
“Now, as many of you know, Monday is not the newcomer day.” The speaker paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “But, you all deserve to be spoiled sometimes. And I like giving you surprises.” The crowd was beginning to catch on to what this meant, and more and more cheering erupted throughout the place.

  
“I love spoiling all of you.” The man’s voice took on a flirtatious tone, one that probably made all of the women in there incredibly interested in just what he had to say, and one that made Steve almost gag.

  
“So, enjoy our newest golden boy. Now, I’ll admit, I was opposed to introducing him on a night like this, but… you’ll see why I made an exception. Have a wonderful time.” The room erupted in cheers for the umpteenth time that night, and Steve found himself looking at the stage expectantly. After all, the entire room was black now, it wasn’t like he could really stare at anything else, especially if the lights came back on and he found that he was staring at someone’s face who didn’t want to speak to.

  
The cheering cut off at the sound of what sounded a bit like a staticy television set. It took Steve a few moments to realize that this wasn’t because of a glitch in the sound system, rather than the actual start of a song that was selected by someone with awful taste. Steve squinted his eyes, trying to see if he could actually make out anything in the darkness. And then, the lyrics to the song started and the lights flashed back on, though they were noticeably softer than they had been moments before.

  
Steve’s eyes fell upon the guy who was now on the stage, and all alone. If he was even a guy, with all of layers of clothing that he must’ve been wearing, it was challenging to tell if it was even a guy, or if there was anything under there. It was as though they had just dragged a punk guy from off of the streets and told him to put on a show. The newcomer had a black bandana over his face, in addition to a leather jacket, a black tee, and black jeans. It was no wonder why he had been able to blend in to the darkness as well as he had. In fact, only the top of his head was visible, just at the eyeline and above, just enough to see some closely cut dark brown hair and his eyes, barely blue specks from where Steve was sitting.

  
_I usually love sleeping all alone,_  
_This time around bring your friend with you._

  
At this, the man finally moved, no longer frozen as though he were a statue. Though it wasn’t anything extraordinary, at least in Steve’s opinion. It wasn’t obviously sexual, nor crude, like the other limited dancing that he had seen so far. Maybe that was just because he still had most of his clothes on. Instead, this guy’s dancing was more like something you find in a YouTube tutorial. He was almost swaying back and forth, bending his neck to the side a bit as he shut his eyes, probably out of concentration.

  
_But we ain't really gonna to sleep at all,_  
_You ain't gonna catch me with them sneak pictures, sneak pictures._

  
This movement continued for the next two verses, and the continued swaying was almost calming in an odd way. Until Steve noticed that his hands had moved from his sides and were now resting at the side of the leather jacket, a few fingers tightened around it.

  
_In my city I'm a young god,_  
_That pussy kill be so vicious._

  
At this lyric, his entire persona changed. The man’s eyes snapped open and in one single, fluid motion, he had taken off the jacket, spinning it around his head for a few moments, much to the audience’s delight. Meandering hands from the crowd reached out for him, even though he was easily a yard away from the edge of the stage still. The man just kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as he threw the jacket onto the ground behind him.

  
_My god white, he in my pocket,_  
_He get me redder than the devil 'til I go nauseous._

  
At these words, the man dropped down towards the stage so he was practically squatting, and practically thrust his hips forward, even though he kept his own hands resting on his knees. Steve found himself frowning a bit. After all, the beginning of the routine had been so tame, and now, he was making it somewhat obscene. It was disappointing in a way.

  
_Asked me if I do this every day, I said "Often"._  
_Asked how many times she rode the wave, "Not so often"._

  
He was standing up again, though he had his body turned at a 90 degree angle to the audience as he acted though he was falling backwards, only to do a full on backflip at the end of the two lines. Cheering filled the room once more and the man pulled his bandana down, to reveal a shameless smirk plastered upon his face at how he was making the entire audience feel at that moment.

  
_Bitches down to do it either way, often,_  
_Baby I can make that pussy rain, often._

  
He cast the bandana aside as though it had never even been tied around his head, and this time, he threw it into the audience. Steve’s eyes strayed from him long enough to find that a woman in the audience had stood up and was currently clutching the bandana as though it were as precious as her newborn child. When he turned his attention back to the stripper, he was moving his hips forward once more as he tore the shirt that he was wearing in half, revealing a slightly muscular chest that was more tan than the rest of his skin. There was an uproar as the man’s smirk only grew, clearly having fun with the reactions that he was prompting from the expectant crowd.

  
_Often, often, girl I do this often,_  
_Make that pussy pop and do it how I want it._

  
At every “often”, the man moved to the side a bit, leaning down once more as he acted as though he was practically grinding against thin air. Even though this was just repeating what he had done earlier, the crowd loved it. Maybe it was because of the mischievous look in his eye as he did so, or the ever-present smirk plastered on his face.

  
_Often, often, girl I do this often,_  
_Make that pussy pop and do it how I want it._

  
At the end of the first verse, the stripper finally dropped down to the ground, resting with his hands behind his back as he scooted forwards, though doing so where he ended up sliding with one hand across the stage. When he got to the end of it, just about a foot away from the nearest woman, he kneeled down on one knee in front of her, resting one of his hands on his leg and the other on the stage. For a moment, his facial expression softened, and the smirk was gone, replaced with a stare.

  
_Oh damn._

  
It became clear to Steve in that moment why he had been hired. He didn’t have much to compare this guy to, but he could tell that he wasn’t nearly as built as the blonde before him. But that stare was something that could send someone to their knees. It was filled with such an intensity that seemed next to impossible to copy, and the man’s mouth turned upwards in a small, almost bashful smirk.

  
Steve found himself reaching out for his glass, only to realize that it was empty, and had been for quite some time.

  
_Infatuated by the fame status,_  
_She wanna ride inside the G-Class grey matic._

  
The man pulled away from the side of the stage, as though the look that he had just given had never actually happened, as though he had never even broken character. He moved back slightly, still on his hands and knees as he turned himself around so he was now facing the stage with his stomach. His hips began to rock back and forth as he acted as though he was grinding against the stage. However, it wasn’t in a hurried sense, rather, the entire action was very fluid and almost smooth in some odd way that Steve couldn’t quite pinpoint. He kept his eyes staring out at the audience, and once more, the devilish smirk had returned to his face.

  
_I come around, she leave that nigga like he ain't matter,_  
_That girl been drinkin' all day, need to change bladder._

  
Moments later, he had swung his arms with enough force to push himself upright once more, and the stripper was standing up again. He ran his hands down his chest, stopping at the waistline of his jeans as the whole audience seemed to hold their breath. He began to undo his belt in a slow fashion, trying to tease the awaiting spectators in the worst way possible. However, he had just released the buckle when he dropped his left arm back to his side, using his right arm to begin to unbutton the front of his pants. The room grew far more loud, to the point where it was almost ear splitting, and then, he let his other hand leave the front of his body, resting a single index finger against his curled lips, the smirk seeming to increase tenfold as he did so. Steve could have sworn his eyes flickered. The electricity there boiled over and more screams started. Steve even heard a stray cry of “take them off!” But the man knew what he was doing, knew exactly where he wanted everyone.

  
_She's just happy that the crew back in town,_  
_She's 'bout to go downtown for a whole hour._

  
Chanting seemed to fill the entire establishment, desperate and hungry screams of desire filling the air. The man registered this, and, he removed the hand from his lips, now placing it to his ear and swaying back and forth as he pretended to listen to what they had to say. And, seeming pleased with what he heard, his hands strayed down to his belt once more, pulling it out of the loops of his pants in a split second, fast enough where it made a snapping sound. He folded the leather in two in his hands and pulled it out, stepping to the side as another snapping noise filled the air.

  
_If I had her, you can have her, man it don't matter,_  
_I'm never sour, I'm just smokin' somethin' much louder._

  
He cast the belt aside, right where the leather jacket had been deposited on the stage, undoing the second button on the front of his jeans, unzipping them as well as he allowed the front of his jeans to just hang open as he leaned towards the front of the stage, looking like he was trying to square his body in order to emphasize his crotch even more. The man seemed like he was loving this. He moved with so much confidence, and Steve had a hard time actually believing that he was new to this profession.

  
There was a small pause in the music as the lights dimmed ever so slightly, and he saw the stripper’s eyes shut for just a moment as he inhaled, moving his hands down to rest in the pockets of his jeans. Unorganized cheering and shouting filled the club. The excitement was tangible. And then, the song began once more, louder this time.

  
_Asked me if I do this every day, I said "Often"._  
_Asked how many times she rode the wave, "Not so often"._

  
The stripper tore his jeans off in a split second, an action that made Steve frown and look down at his hands, which were currently resting on the marble countertop. His hands were shaking and his palms felt warmer than usual, sweaty. This had been such a bad idea, he was getting too tense for it to actually be healthy. The music was overpowering and it was making his blood pound. What was he even doing there? Steve didn't belong in a place like this, he shouldn't have been watching something like this unfold. He felt like he'd have to go home and say about ten hail Marys to redeem himself for watching something as distasteful as this. Feeling a wave of nausea start to wash over him, Steve desperately needed to distract himself for a moment, and his eyes fell upon the mystery man once again.

  
_Bitches down to do it either way, often,_  
_Baby I can make that pussy rain, often._

  
Steve's eyes locked upon the man just in time to see him 'fall’ backwards, only to spin around at the last possible moment, landing on his hands and knees. Steve already knew what was coming as he grinded against the stage as he looked out at the audience, a darkened look in his eyes. He really was enjoying this. His tongue darted out of his mouth briefly, licking the corner of his lips, and this riled the crowd up more than anything he had done so far… save the time he had put a finger to his lips or taken off his pants.

  
_Often, often, girl I do this often,_  
_Make that pussy pop and do it how I want it._

  
He continued this for several more moments before he leaned onto his back, pushing upwards with a force strong enough to send him back to his feet. He allowed himself to break character for the second time, and Steve realized that the song was probably almost finished, which was why he was doing this. The stripper ran a hand through what was now his damp hair, flashing a large, appreciative smile at the audience as several strands of dark hair fell into his forehead.

  
_Often, often, girl I do this often,_  
_Make that pussy pop and do it how I want it._

  
He bowed when the song finally ended, one hand to his side and the other resting across his now bare chest. Steve heard the scraping of chairs as the onlookers stood up, clapping and cheering and giving him a standing ovation. The man's smile grew even more and he gave a mock salute to the crowd before turning and bending over to grab his clothing, clad in only a pair of light grey boxers. Steve was certain he had stayed bent over longer than he needed to, though the audience loved it (and his butt). He finally stood up and walked away to hide himself behind the curtain that served as the entrance to the stage, but the cheering didn't die down for a good five seconds, even after he had left. The crown adored him.

  
Steve released a breath that he didn't know he had been holding in this entire time and swallowed. Why had he just watched that? Why hadn't he looked away? It was weird and disgusting and he had kept watching it, even though he hadn't needed to. He glanced down at his watch, squinting his eyes in order to read it in the poor lighting.

  
_49 minutes left._

  
_He'd need to drink more._

  
“Bruce?” The bartender turned to him with a small grin, nodding warmly.

  
“What can I get you?”

  
“A shot of the strongest thing you've got.” Bruce's eyes widened for a moment, and Steve knew that Sam's were definitely doing the same, but the look of surprise and even concern was soon replaced by an even larger smile, as though the other man was proud of him for choosing that.

  
“Coming right up.”

  
Steve gave him a thankful nod. He really needed to get some more booze into his system. He wasn't thinking straight, and this wasn’t normal. At least drinking more would make him less aware of this fact. If he was lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> So... I don't know how this happened. I was initially writing this for my girlfriend, but when I realized that there were going to be multiple chapters of this, I decided to post it.  
> This is the first time I have written as Steve, so hopefully it isn't too bad? Thankfully, it's an AU, so I think I have some room to not get his personality exactly correct, right off the bat.  
> I promise that I will try to give this story and somewhat happy ending (probably bittersweet), but there will be angst, and there will be emotion, and this fanfic is just going to be a mess of a rollercoaster ride.  
> I won't be updating regularly? The first chapter got to eleven pages on Docs and I don't have enough time to write out that much due to school. I will update when I can, though don't expect it to be on a weekly basis.  
> I do have a lot of ideas for this story, so I doubt that I'll get writers block, which is more than I can say about some of my other stories.  
> If you are reading this, I honestly cannot thank you enough for clicking on this gigantic garbage heap. I'll try to update in about a week because of holiday break. Thank you again.  
> P.o


End file.
